Box Hill - Up Close and Personal - A Personal Journey

As regular readers will know, Coran and I live in the beautiful village of Box Hill, in deepest Surrey, which at the end of July played host to the Olympic Road Cycling Races. As Editor and Assistant Editor as we were then of the village magazine, Box Hill News, we hoped to produce an Olympic special to commemorate the Games. Sadly this was not to be, as after 100 hours of work and numerous meetings and other discussions, we were told that the National Trust areas in which we hoped to sell the magazine were to be ticketed zones. It is a long story, much documented on the Internet (at the time) and local press, and the least now said the better.

Good however can come from bad, as it was as a result of this that Coran first posited the idea to instead produce a video - a video for the village and the wider community (and that includes you) documenting not only the Races themselves, but what went on behind the scenes with regard to planning - and an awful lot did.

Coran is well placed for a project such as this, with his own web design business, having worked for the BBC for over 20 years, including as part of the RDS team. This project certainly stretched her own boundaries and taught her many more skills which will no doubt stand her in good stead for the future. I conducted at least one of the interviews myself, and so have also learnt from the experience.

The video, which can be seen above, comes highly recommended by myself (even if I am in it - and you can see me in person also at least twice), features interviews with Andy Wright, Southeast Regional Manager for the National Trust, Lyn Richards, Chairman of the Friends of Box Hill and Helen Shackleton, an independent artist who provided much of the artwork which was placed along the ZigZag for the Race weekend, as well as around the outside of the National Trust centre itself as a permanent feature.

This is our legacy for the Games, and our gift to the village. Enjoy.

The Spirit of the Games - In Action

Once the Olympics were over, with the lull that followed, I wondered along with half of Britain, whether the Paralympics could live up to the hype. Now that they too are over, I have to say that for me at least if anything, I found these even more exhilarating. This may have been because in this case, I was able to see not one, but two of the events live at different venues across London - North Greenwich Arena and the Excel Arena.

Watching the Paralympic opening ceremony was for me just mind blowing. The theme of Enlightenment told me all that I needed to know. It may have been dressed up as a celebration of science, and it certainly was that, but for those who are on the spiritual path, science and spirituality are really the same thing. The search for the Higgs Boson, otherwise known as the God particle is a search to understand not just the origins of the universe, but the building blocks of life itself, life being who and what we are. The words life and spirituality in this context, can be seen as interchangeable, for what else when it really comes down to it, is life about?

As for the motto "Spirit in Action", well isn't that what we all are - and these games were a fine example of just that. To witness the trials and the triumphs that these elite athletes went through (if anyone doubts this, then watch Jody Cundy's completely understandable outburst) was the perfect showcase for this phrase. The spirituality was there in the Olympics too for sure, but much less obvious, with the Paralympics it was right there in your face, with bells and whistles, and it needed to be in order to get the message across - with 21st December and the energetic portal that that represents now just around the corner, we do not have the time to pussy foot around - people either get it or they don't, and they won't unless we let them know in the most obvious way and with the widest possible audience.

If I thought the Opening Ceremony was impressive, then the Closing Ceremony was even more so, with its steam punk theme and Pagan imagery depicting the elements and the seasons with words from the Order of the Druids no less. The more I think about it, the more spirituality I see in these games, even the motto "spirit in action", which can be taken in so many different ways - on the one hand we are all spirits in physical form, taking action to step out into the physical world and be seen, and on the other, the games also represent the fighting spirit of these champion athletes and the trials that they have to go through to be seen as the equals that they are. Lord Coe was absolutely right when he said that disability will never be seen in quite the same way again. The spectacle of blind footballers and one legged high jumpers made even me (and remember I work with those with disabilites - half of our residents are in wheelchairs), think.

Those first few days after the opening ceremony surpassed all expectations, with it seems records being broken each time that I tuned in. Various residents television sets at the nursing home where I work proved most obliging, with the residents enjoying my company and being most bemused by my seeming ability to materialise in front of their screens each time a particularly loud cheer erupted, and there were plenty of them - Richard Whitehead, Ellie Simmons and of course Sarah Storey, the greatest of all the Paralympians with 22 medals in 2 different disciplines.

After the Road Cycling Races and the Olympics that followed, Coran and I knew that we wanted to see at least one Paralympic event, and Wheelchair Basketball being our sport of choice, we were overjoyed to find tickets available on my first day off following the Opening Ceremony. The Basketball took place at the North Greenwich Arena, formerly known as the O2, where almost four years to the day Coran had been taken ill with a suspected heart attack while on the way home from a Stevie  Wonder concert. Initially reluctant to go back to this venue, Coran realised that part of the purpose for this second visit was to clear the negative energy that we were both still holding on to after that night.

Wheelchair Basketball turned out to be an amazing game to watch, fast paced and furious - seeing how the players tackle each other and trip over and manage to get back up again is really something else.

The first match we saw was Poland versus Japan (men's) which Poland won and then after a short break it was the women's turn - Team GB versus Australia. Sadly (sorry Australians) Australia won, but they were the better team and so did of course deserve it - I certainly wouldn't want to mess with those women! Team GB put up a good effort, but the Aussie's got such a flying start that it was very difficult for us to catch up. These were of course only the preliminaries, and many more games followed for all the teams. 

Coran and I were lucky enough though to be seated right down the front, in the very first row in front of the pitch, so for us, it could not have been any better. The crowd were amazing, if a little loud, but hey they were watching our own home team, so that was as it should be. The journey too was uneventful, and the company was good.

The exhilaration of seeing live Paralympic events fed both of our appetites, and was we found most addictive, so having spent a most enjoyable day watching the Wheelchair Basketball, along with many others, I tried to get some more tickets and eventually managed to get 2 for the Sitting Volleyball men's final on the penultimate day. I noticed that the tickets seemed to go on sale around 6pm most nights, which I suppose was the deadline for the corporations to say whether they had filled all of their own seats. While we would have liked to have seen the Olympic Park itself, sadly this was not to be. Actually now that the Games are over, and I have spoken to those who were there, I am glad that we did not go, as I think we may have found it too much, especially had we been in the stadium. I am more than happy with the events that we did see, as you don't often get the chance to see a gold medal event, and to get 2 lots of tickets was brilliant, when there were so many who didn't get any at all.

That night - which was only a few nights ago, was one that I shall always remember. It was touch and go as to whether we would make it in to the Arena as on the journey up in the morning Coran started to feel nauseous and shaky. Thankfully the amazing helpers in the medical room sorted us out, and after an hour or so in the dark room with some reassurance from the Doctor and her helpers (my own honesty and vulnerability helped as well in expressing how I felt, which encouraged Coran to do the same)  Coran felt well enough to go inside. Our seats were at the end of the aisle which helped, as it meant that we could wander in and out without disturbing people.

We had a brilliant view though of the pitch, only about 5 rows back, and the crowds were incredible, if rather noisy - especially the Iranians for the Gold medal match. The first match was Egypt versus Brazil, which Brazil won, and then it was the bronze medal decider between Russia and Germany. It was incredibly close, and by the third set it really looked as if Russia were going to win, but the Germans managed to pull things back and in the end, although it was still close, they won. Sadly we we had gone out for a walk and so missed the actual moment, but the gold match was of course the most important. I don't think anything would have got me out of the Arena for that one.

I have never seen so many Iranians (or Bosnians for that matter) in one place, other than Iran (or Bosnia) - waving huge flags and chanting, blowing their horn type things (I am surprised they let them bring them in), with the women in their colourful hijabs. It was lovely to see such scenes of celebration, cheering on their teams. Every time Iran scored, they got louder and louder.

This was a a very close match as well, like the Bronze Medal - we did go outside a few times when the noise became too much, and for a cup of tea just to keep going. We were sitting down drinking our tea when Coran spotted a games maker with a Paralympic Torch by the Manderville statue, so we went over to investigate and he took our picture with us holding it - a real live torch ! When we got back inside, the crowd were at fever pitch, with Bosnia in the lead. It seemed that every time Bosnia scored, the Iranians would then get another one, evening things out. This seemed to the scene for most of the game until almost the end of the third set, which went to Bosnia. The Bosnians went wild, as it meant that they were in with a chance - if Iran had won the first three, then they would have got the gold. The final set was so close, it was electrifying, but when it got to the point where Bosnia had a 6 point lead, I think everyone knew what the outcome would be, and they swept to victory.

Having stayed for this long, we had to stay for the victory ceremony. By this time my camera battery was threatening to run out (I had already used up by first one, having taken almost 800 pictures - thank goodness for sport and burst mode). I had to be very selective then over what I took in those final moments, but thankfully the battery did keep firing, and I managed to get another 100 or so shots.

By the time we got in it was almost 11.30pm, and it had been a VERY long day - long, but so very worthwhile. We paid for it the following day, especially Coran, who had to go back into London for a hospital appointment, but it was worth every single moment to say that we were part of history and witnessed one of the finest sporting events I have ever seen. Now that the games are over, I am seriously considering a trip to Rio!

The Message behind the Games

One of the advantages of working in a nursing home as I do, is the fact that many of the residents have televisions in their rooms. That and the big screen TV in the downstairs lounge mean that I have been able to watch the Olympics while I work. On several occasions this week I have found loitering on various residents beds while they drink their cups of tea. Most of them have been only too pleased to have my company.

This morning I was passing one of these residents rooms and he happened to have on his radio. The station is not as important as the message that it was broadcasting. A "Christian", and I use the term loosely for it has many meanings, was speaking about what he felt was the message behind the Olympics. He said that he felt it was showing us that our focus and our goal should not be about making money but rather about striving to be the best that we can be. This is a phrase that I have heard quite frequently in the last few weeks, and if you take it at face value as most have, it is all about striving to reach that Olympic goal. It can however be applied to almost any aspect of anyone's life in equal measure.

Whether young or old, that is the sole (or perhaps soul) reason we are here - to strive to be the best that we can in any given moment. Knowing as I do that time is an illusion, that moment stretches on into eternity and reaches out into infinity. To live in the moment is all that we can do, for the moment is all that there is.

The Olympics also show us that is not about winning, but about competing in the spirit of fairness and equality. Those that fail to win medals (and these are the majority) are not failures because of this this, but successes because they tried, and try is all we can do. The journey to coin another well used phrase, is more important than the destination and it is the experience that is the prize for it is that experience that shows us who we are and what we too can be.

The Message is in the Music - Calibans Dream

As the rain tossed above us;

In the garden of the world

But a flame arrives to guide us;

Past the gold between the angles of the stars

Watch you over all the children in the rain;

And the streets where I remember

Where the fire that lights a candle soars again;

A flaring flame,

Hear it call;

Through the darkness,

Hear it call to us all

And start again;

Its beating heart

Comes again

When the light dries all the fields

And the joy drives out our pain

And the nations come to greet us

Waving molten loaves and waves of golden corn

Can you hear us,

Oh, the spirit of the world

May your light be ever near us

Always heal us from the dark that we may fall

Olympic cycling comes to Box Hill

At the end of February 2011, after months of speculation, it was finally confirmed via a big Press Conference, that the Olympic road cycling races for both men and women would be coming through Box Hill. A public meeting rapidly followed the announcement, during which villagers had the opportunity to ask questions and raise concerns - and there were many of them. Then on August 14th 2011, we had the test race. This was a small taste of what was to come.

Coran and I as Assistant Editor and Editor respectively of the village newsletter Box Hill News, were lucky enough to have the opportunity to gain access to the restricted areas for the race, and take roadside pictures of the athletes as they made their way through. This was thrilling enough, but was nothing compared to what took place this past weekend.

As the Olympics approached the negativity throughout the village seemed to increase along with the excitement - all sorts of things were being said - there were too many cyclists, this would "put the village on the map" exposing us to a possible crime wave, there would be problems with litter, but most of they objected to the lengthy road closures, which meant in the words of one particularly vociferous villager "being kettled in". I am pleased to say that all of those fears have been proved to be totally unfounded, as the chaos (and there was much of it) was worth it all for the chance to see these world class athletes right outside our front doors - and all for free.

A week or so before the race, since we had been unable to sell the Box Hill News from within the ticketed zone, or even around the village during the weekend, Coran had the idea to make a video for the village, on behalf of the Box Hill Neighbourhood Council. Once the Council had approved the idea, we arranged to borrow a friends camera to do the filming with. Knowing that the athletes would be coming through for a test run on the Thursday before the race, Coran spent time filming the action while walking through the village all the way up to the ticketed zone. There she got talking to the security guards where she was given permission to film the ticket holders as they came in. En route she also discovered that BBC Radio Surrey were broadcasting live from Box Hill, and she also got permission to come and film them on the race days. Everything seemed to be running so smoothly with things just falling into our laps.

It was also an eventful week for me. News of the Box Hill News debacle made it onto the Internet following coverage in the Dorking and Leatherhead Advertisers. This led to an interview on BBC Radio Surrey and later to Sky Sports News, who interviewed me outside the village shop, having been unable to access the National Trust areas due to road closures. Sadly as we do not subscribe to Sky, I was unable to view the transmission, but various friends informed me that it was broadcast as part of the main evening news and that I came across as "friendly but saddened by the events".

Of course now the races are over, I can see why things happened the way that they did - for if we had been busy selling the magazine then we would not have been free to enjoy the races ourselves, and Coran would not have had the opportunity to create the video that she is now editing. We may not have been able to tell the story in words, to the villagers and spectators, but we can tell it in pictures instead, which will reach a much wider audience and is a more appropriate medium with which to get the message across.

Along with it seems most of the population, we stayed up to watch the opening ceremony and were literally blown away. The intensity of the drumming in the first sequence was one thing, but when the performers came on stage to those pounding drums, emerging from beneath the Holy Thorn on the model of Glastonbury Tor, the intensity was overwhelming. It seemed to us that this scene which was a reenactment of the industrial revolution was a means of clearing so much of the crap that has been caused over the years by our ancestors - the colonisation of distant lands, the abuses by the mill owners and other businesses, the Jarrow marchers (particularly poignant given the current state of our economy), I could go on. It was almost as if Danny Boyle was saying "Yes we fucked it all up, but now we have to apologise for that and move on".

The second sequence was less dramatic but nevertheless also had meaning - for me at least it was about honouring the role that women and children have and will play in the shaping of our society. You see most of the problems were created by men, and the women and children were the innocents to get caught up in their power games. Now the tables are turning as the feminine begins to rise within society and women take a more equal role. As for the third sequence, supposedly a celebration of the digital age, well this was and is about the future, a celebration of all that is to come, including, yes the gifts of both the Internet and mobile phones. It was one big party.

The parade of flags needs no explanation, but the lighting of the cauldron was the best part yet, when the honour was passed over to the young and upcoming generation - for they are indeed the future and it is now over to them to carry the light that will take us through to the new millennium and into the future, away from the shadows and shackles of our past.

When we left the house at 7.30am the following day, crowds were already beginning to mass throughout Box Hill Road, with a group of stewards to greet us at the gates to the park where we live. By the time we got up to the Smith and Western near the Donkey Green it was packed to capacity with fans of all ages. We made our way through to the BBC area where Coran proceeded to film presenter Nick Wallis who at that time was conducting an interview with a woman from Redhill who had taken part in the opening ceremony. Following a chat with Nick's producer Kerry, and a camerawoman from the BBC, we made our way up to ticketed zone where those lovely Air force people allowed us to film and photograph the spectators as they came through.

We stayed at this area as the first lap came through, sitting by the side of the road, literally inches away from the action, gradually making our way down through the village for each proceeding lap. There were nine of them in all. The streets were crammed to capacity with fans of all ages, all having a fantastic time, dressed in all their Union Jack finery. By the end of the day we were dizzy with excitement, running on pure adrenalin. I estimate that there must have been close to 50,000 fans along that part of the route alone.

Sunday was quieter, given the later start from The Mall at 12 noon, and the fact that the women did just 2 laps rather than 9, but in some ways the race itself was more exciting, particularly at the end.

Coran and I were filming at the ticketed zone again when a gentleman walked over to me and asked if I wanted a ticket as one of his friends had not turned up. I thought he was joking, but quickly realised that he was not, and then one of the stewards offered us another one that she had been given to pass on, so rapidly emptying our water bottles we made our way inside.

Coran stayed along the top end of the ZigZag while I made my way down to Straw Belle Slope to await the action and listen to the live commentary. Sadly they would not allow me to scramble down to Butterfly Bend for the next lap, but I had a great view as the riders came up the slope, which was useful as it meant I knew exactly when to start switching on the camera. On both days I kept it in burst mode and just kept shooting - during the 2 days Coran achieved 6 hours of footage while I took over 1000 pictures - that will be one hell of an editing job. It was the icing on the cake to get the women's silver medal, and a huge cheer went up from the crowd who were watching the final on the big screen.

The weather may not have been kind during the second day for the womens race, but this too had meaning. The sun which shone brightly in the days leading up to the opening ceremony and on the first day for the mens race is of course a symbol of masculinity, the fire element in all its glory. Water on the other hand, which rain of course is, is very much feminine, representing the emotions, which the female riders no doubt experienced in abundance, as did the crowds. Water acts to wash everything away, all the debris and all the detriment that we no longer need, replenishing us in both body and soul to start anew, which is of course in this year of 2012, exactly what we are doing.

It is no accident that London won the bid for these 2012 games, and it is also no accident that the opening sequence for the opening ceremony featured a model of Glastonbury Tor, for Great Britain is the hub from which much of the abuse of the past several hundred years stemmed from, and Glastonbury is the heart chakra of the earth, the heart being a symbol of forgiveness. The combination of the opening sequence and that rain on the second day paves the way for the new era to be ushered in, as we are now swept clean of all this debris that no serves us, and we are free to move gracefully into a new era.

Looking back with hindsight, which is as always a wonderful thing, if someone was to ask me whether the chaos and disruption has been worth it (and it was interesting how often the word chaos was used by the commentators during the opening ceremony - we were definately tuning in on the universal consciounsess there), I would say one hundred percent yes. In the space of a few hours, watching and interacting with the crowds and seeing the spectacle of Olympic class athletes free wheeling past quite literally on the doorstep, all the anger and all the frustration has gone.

The nature of unpredictability

While it is true that Britain has a reputation for unpredictable weather, this year it has been more unpredictable than most. What little summer we have so far had, seems to have been confined in the southeast at least where I live, to a week or so in May and the occasional day (thankfully mostly on my days off) of luke warm sun. We have had rain, hail, and high force winds galore, frequently all at the same time. Even Scilly where I went for my summer holiday in June has been immune, the islands normally having the highest sunshine record in Britain. It is true that the weather there was better than at home, but we had some less than perfect days too, and the weather did for me at least seem unseasonably cool with convertible trousers rather than traditional shorts, the order of the day. On one occasion I was walking along the north coast towards the Bronze Age settlement of Halangy Down when the heaven's opened. Making a dash for the nearest entrance grave (which I realised would have a roof), I was surprised to find a couple already sheltering there, having had the same idea as me - we were rapidly joined by a second couple and proceeded to play a game called "How many live bodies can you fit in a Bronze Age grave". Being slightly vertically challenged at just over 5 feet tall I was the only one who was able to stand up without having to stoop, but that is another story ...

Anyway, I was thinking this morning about the nature of all this strange and unpredictable weather and what it all might mean. Those who are on the spiritual path or have some knowledge of Shamanism will know about the four elements of earth, air, fire and water and what they represent - namely that earth, is well connected to the earth, air (wind) is about communication, fire is about passion and anger and all those things that drive us, and water is about emotion. It seems then to me that with all this water, there is quite literally an excess of emotion that people just do not know how to deal with. It spills over like a river bursting its banks (and we have seen a few of them these past few weeks), often at the most inopportune moment.

At the moment as well, with all the changes going on both on a personal and a global level, people have a lot to feel emotional about - for many, especially those who are higher up the ladder in positions of authority and power, the rug is quite literally being swept from beneath their feet, for with the recent scandals and abuses that have come to light, first with the media and now with banking, ordinary people such as myself (they would be the ones who keep those at the top in their positions in the first place and consume the services that their corporations insist that we need), are demanding change, and that change is beginning to happen. The world is shifting and changing and the balance of power is beginning to shift and change with it, and those at the top are quite literally running scared, for they can sense that the end is nigh, and people are no longer prepared to accept the status quo. But are they?

While there is undoubtedly a great feeling of change in the air, for many there is also a feeling of helplessness and complacency, the thought that they alone are not powerful enough to affect the changes that we can now see that society plainly needs. They are of course wrong, but this too is where the overpowering emotions come from - society is shifting and changing so far and so fast that the majority who do not have the spiritual understanding that most of my readers have, do not understand either what is happening to how to deal with it. Thus it is that like the weather, one day they are up, the next they are down, like the wind, constantly shifting speed and direction.

Only when people are sufficiently angry will things really change and anger being fire energy in this context, can be seen as synonymous with the sun, and the lack of its energy. Maybe as more of these scandals come to light, and the enquiry into the rate fixing scandal begins to take form and more facts are revealed, people will start to feel that anger a little more. I suspect that only then will we start to feel the warmth of the sun.

Back from Scilly

Once again, a month has gone by since I wrote this blog. One month ago I was preparing to go the Isles of  Scilly for my 2 week summer holiday, and here I am a month later, not yet one week back from that holiday and back to work right into the fray.

The weeks leading up to that trip seemed to have passed in a whirl of work related stress and other issues and my time away seems to have passed as always, far too quickly, yet I know that how I felt then and how I feel now pay very little resemblance. Despite being back at work, back to the same old problems of an unappreciative boss (for that read Director, for my immediate Manager is the opposite, and I guess that is what really counts), and being generally overworked and underpaid, I feel much more relaxed and refreshed than I did then. It normally takes around a month for the holiday feeling to really wear off, so I guess I have another three weeks to go ...

On the day of departure, on the train to Penzance, I felt slightly nervous knowing that it had been many years since I made a long train journey such as this. Once we got past Reading however, where I connected with the First Great Western service from Paddington, I began to relax, especially once the man sitting next to me, who did seem to realise that a quiet carriage meant no mobile phones had been put straight! The journey itself, which initially seemed to drag, soon went by, as I found myself staring out of the windows watching the ever changing scenery intermittenly reading my Kindle. Every so often I got up for a walk to the toilets or to the buffet car for a cup of tea, wishing as with other transport providers of this kind, that gluten free was more readily available and I had not been forced to bring my own, adding to the bulk of my wheelie bag.

On arrival in Penzance, I decided to walk to the YMCA where I had booked myself in for the night. It was quite a long walk, maybe a mile or so, most of it uphill, so by the time I got there I was short of breath, hot and sweaty. However, once I had checked into my room and claimed by bunk, I soon regained my composure before going back into town for a proper look around. One cannot really get a feel of the place when staying for a few short hours overnight, but from what I did see of Penzance it is a pleasant enough place, and one that I would be quite comfortable spending more time in. The hostel itself was comfortable enough, even though the common room was taken over by the local youth club which meant I was unable to watch television, but I didn't lose too much sleep over that.

The following day I walked back into town via Archie Browns healthfood store and cafe for a a delicious breakfast, before heading back to the railway station to catch the shuttle bus for my flight to the islands from Lands End. The weather was overcast, but the wind managed to stay away, and the flight itself was over quickly. We landed just after 12.30pm, and I was then bussed back to the flay, courtesy of Skybus, where I quickly changed, before going into town for a look around and to visit the Coop.

Each day after that was a new adventure, as the islands gradually unfolded for me to explore - a different one each day, each with their own character. Each seemed reminiscent of a different aspect of Lundy - Bryher like the rugged north end, St Martins like the lush and sheltered east coast and St Agnes like the west, while Tresco was a little of each. Samson of course, is a law unto itself, being given over now to nature and a large colony of black backed gulls, and of course terns.

Many happy days were spent exploring the islands, from north to south and east to west, sitting on beautiful white deserted beaches, exploring rock pools and large granite formations, walking labyrinths (known on the islands as mazes) and eating local delicacies and morsals - Troy Town ice cream (rose and geranium, delicious and unusual), and locally caught prawns) with Scilly's famous cream teas. One of the best days was spent walking around the coast of St Mary's, the largest island on which I stayed - 12 miles in total. It was one of those sunny yet windy days, when the wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks and bringing tears to the eyes. By the time I got to Old Town, the sign saying cafe was most welcome, and I walked inside for a delicious cup of tea with home made gluten free brownie.

Nights were spent soaking in the bath, walking around the Garison and nearby Halangy Down and watching television. As ever, the 2 weeks went far too fast, and now I am home, it seems a lifetime away.

One of the things I appreciated the most about the flat that I rented was the radio that came with it, and I soon got into a routine of waking each day and switching it on, listening in bed while I ate breakfast and prepared for the day. I was tempted to make a booking for the same flat for next year, but my heart tells me that it would be nice to explore other places as otherwise it may turn into another Lundy.

While I was away, the Editorship of the village newsletter that I recently left behind seems to have been thrown back into the air, as my replacement has been abruptly sacked due to a dispute over their ideas for the future of the newsletter and their treatment of contributors. I have no intentions of taking it back, although it looks as if Coran might, on a temporary basis at least. As for the Olympics, well that it now less than one month away, and the machine continues to grind on. We attended an open meeting in the Village Hall yesterday and did not learn anything new. It was however a chance to vent our spleen, not that it achieved anything, other than making us feel better.

Now all I have to do it enjoy the rest of the summer and plan the next holiday!